Abduction
by Serenity12
Summary: Mycroft is presented with a most unsettling case, who then passes it to Sherlock, who then has to put up with his older brother in order to get the case solved. Who says the Holme's family doesn't spend time together? *Mature themes, not explicit, but may change*


_April __28, 2012, 10:03 AM_

_Code A-E_

Mycroft looked down at the text message that flashed upon his mobile and felt a momentary fall in the corners of his lips. The physical twitch was immediately replaced with a plastered, polite smile towards his guest, "So sorry, your Majesty, but we must cut our little visit short. All documents are in the proper order, you can be assured. The Nation will have Spain's little problem fixed before anyone will know it was even there."

The monarch only gave a curt nod of his head, his wrinkled features still screwed into a hard expression as his own personal woes weight down upon him, "Yes. Thank you, Mr. Holmes. We are…in your debt."

Oh, the three little words Mycroft so loved to hear. He exchanged the customary goodbye pleasantries and made his way out of the room in such a composed state that one would hardly imagine he was in the midst of anything important. Perhaps he was on his way to indulge in one of those delicate little pastries from the bistro down the corner he simply adored, or maybe he was heading straight to the barber for his regular trimming. Indeed, his long, practical strides told nothing of a man in distress.

Until he went behind the closed doors of his office, where his pleasant-enough expression grew dark and twisted into a scowl as he dialed a certain number he wasn't entirely sure would answer.

He was met, of course, without even the sound of an answering machine as his call was canceled from the other end. Mycroft felt the vein in his neck give a pulsating twitch; this was not the time to be playing games.

Within seconds he had a text message typed out instead, hitting send in the satisfaction that he would, in the very least, receive a reply this time.

_April 28, 2012, 10:11 AM_

_**You may be interested in knowing that you have a new missing person case, dear brother. I suggest you start on it promptly.**_

_April 28, 2012, 10:11 AM_

_Can't. Much too busy._

Despite himself, Mycroft felt his eyes look up to the ceiling in exasperation. Really, must he _always_ be the adult amongst these situations? He typed his response quickly, patience thinning for his brothers typical antics.

_April 28, 2012, 10:12 AM_

_**This is no game, Sherlock. I have just been informed that our sweet Enola has been abducted. Again, I suggest you start on the case without delay, least she be broken by the time we get to her. Mummy would be most displeased.**_

There was a momentary silence as he waited for a response to display upon his mobile's screen. His brother, Mycroft imagined, was currently reading his message with furrowed brows, his mouth falling into a frown much like his own had. Now he had certainly flipped his phone over and was researching recent kidnappings, analyzing any similarities that tied them together, and forming a sort of short film in his head on how, exactly, the event had played out.

The reply, despite a lack of tone, had a feeling of genuine haste.

_April 28, 2012, 10:13 AM_

_Where was she? _

_April 28, 2012, 10:13 AM _

_**Paris, amongst school mates. **_

_April 28, 2012, 10:13 AM_

_Abducted as well?_

_April 28, 2012, 10:14 AM_

_**Yes.**_

_April 28, 2012, 10:14 AM_

_Attractive females? _

_April 28, 2012, 10:15 AM_

_**Indeed.**_

_April 28, 2012, 10:15 AM_

_A sex ring, then. It has been a common issue within the last few months for unattended girls who have the misfortune of being visually appealing. Traveling in groups offer little protection, which means the ring is long established and quite powerful. _

_I suggest we get her out of this situation with haste. Her appearance is far from average, and will likely be sold very quickly at the next auction, which, I assess from the rise in missing females, is quite soon._

_April 28, 2012, 10:20 AM_

_**Arrangements have been made for our travel. I will pick you up in promptly fifteen-minutes. **_

_April 28, 2012, 10:21 AM_

_Our? You? I believe you said this was MY case._

_April 28, 2012, 10:21 AM_

_**Don't be childish, Sherlock. As you said, Enola's situation must be rectified with haste. You work faster when not alone, and the good doctor still remains in New Zealand for the time being. As much as it pains me to accept, there is no other choice but for me to accompany you to ensure Enola's swift return.**_

_April 28, 2012, 10:22 AM_

_I am hardly in need of your assistance. I will have her home before any damage befalls her. Your rather large and physical weak physique will only slow me down._

_April 28, 2012, 10:22 AM_

_**I have done rather well in trimming some of the 'large' aspects of my body, dear brother. I am coming. Now pack your things and cease pouting, you are a grown man for God's sake.**_

Mycroft did not bother looking at his mobile again, knowing full well he would not be receiving another reply and that his brother would, grudgingly, be ready for him when he came to pick him up. He closed his eyes for a moment and released what was reminiscent of a sigh. Playing the part of governor for both a nation _and_ two misbehaved children was a taxing job. Perhaps he would follow John's lead and take a bit of a vacation himself when this ordeal was settled. He did so enjoy the food served in Cuba.

For now, though, he send swift instructions to "Clara" and made his way down to the buildings entrance, where his driver was already faithfully awaiting him.

'_Well_,' He thought solemnly as he seated himself inside the vehicle, '_I suppose the game is on._'

* * *

"What in bloody hell was that all about?" The sound of John's voice was slightly distorted through the laptops small speakers, but the bafflement in his tone was evident all the same. Sherlock casted him a side-glanced scowl and briefly flickered his gaze back to his mobile, contemplating his options.

"Sherlock!" John was growing agitated. Even from the skypes small visual screen, Sherlock could see the irritated wrinkles between his comrade's eyes, "You interrupt what is SUPPOSED to be my vacation, despite, might I add, our agreement that you would NOT call, and then you just ignore me and go about obsessing on your mobile for the past 10 minutes!"

"11, actually." Sherlock corrected with mild regard to doctors apparent agitation, "And I kept our agreement. I did not call you, I merely requested a communication through skype. You could have declined, as I'm sure you would have had New Zealand not been so dreadfully dull."

"You requested it every 5 minutes in the past half hour! How, exactly, was I supposed to 'decline' and keep my peace of mind?"

"I've not the time for your rhetorical questions, John." Sherlock dismissed him with a wave of his hand, as if he were in the room and could merely walk away, "I have a case I need to prepare for."

"A case?" The puzzlement had crept back into John's voice, and Sherlock could tell, despite the solider insisting he wanted rest, that he was curious for the details of it, "What's Lestrade got for you now?"

"Not from Lestrade." Sherlock was no longer sitting in front of the laptop and had to raise his voice to be heard as he hurriedly flounced about the flat, gathering this and that and shoving them into a luggage back he kept near the door for precisely these circumstances.

"Really? Oh, well, then, the site, I suppose?"

"No." Sherlock had pulled out and packed three different guns from three different locations around the flat. John shuttered to think what secrets that home possessed.

"So Mycroft, then?" The doctor had meant the possibility as more of a joke, but his face quickly fell when his friend gave no immediate rejection.

"Oh. Oh, my gracious…is the nation under attack? Please tell me the nation isn't under attack. Should I come home? Wait, no, is it SAFE to come home? I could leave Sarah with my mate until it's ok for her to come back, he and the Mrs's wouldn't mind, I'm sure I could-"

"John, _please_ stop ranting, it's rather distracting when I am trying to _think_." Sherlock's curt tone caused the man to quiet, but his eyes still darted on the screen with unanswered questions. The detective sighed dramatically and summed up the situation in only a slightly condescending manner, "The nation is perfectly _fine_, solider. At ease. You and the rest of the idiots of Britain are safe, as far as my knowledge, anyway. The case is personal, if you _must _know."

"Personal?" The answer appeared to do little to sate John's curiosity as he blinked at the screen, his expression scrunching in near disbelief and, if one looked closely, concern, "What, exactly, is going on Sherlock?"

"Enola has managed to get herself kidnapped, of all things." Sherlock seemed truly irritated as he tossed on his coat, grumbling to something to himself about females.

"…and Enola is…?"

"Oh, _do_ pay attention John, I haven't got _time_ for this!" With the way Sherlock threw back his head and growled in irritation, John was surprised he didn't stomp his foot like a small child, too. Suddenly Sherlock's face filled the screen as he leaned over the laptop, his light eyes burning in frustration as his words spat out quick and precise, "You have already concluded that the case I received was from Mycroft, whom I don't typically accept cases from, and I have outright told you that the case is personal and involves the kidnapping of one 'Enola'. Who is Enola? A female, obviously, and of personal connection to both myself and Mycroft, ALSO obvious. She is young, younger than myself, as older woman have a lower tendency to be abducted, and is fairly attractive, as homely girls _also_ have a lower tendency to be abducted. You can tell from the frantic packing you've witnessed that the case is quite important to me and is being dealt with in the swiftest of manners. Oh, but why am I not already out the door if it is so imperative? Because my brother, the government otherwise known as _Mycroft_, has taken it upon himself to decide that _I_ will need his assistance if we are to return Enola before harm is done to her. Can you imagine, _me_, assistance from _him_?"

John merely stared back at him, slack-jawed, and spoke slowly and loudly as though he were speaking to the clinically insane (which wasn't a far-off analysis), "But who. Is. Enola!?"

"THINK, John, THINK!" John watched the screen shake as Sherlock took hold of the laptop, his toothy scowl reminding him faintly of an ill-tempered dog his neighbor used to have guard his home when he was a child. Sherlock waited, seemingly for John to figure it out on his own, and growled in nuisance when he didn't.

"My SISTER, John, Enola is my SISTER! My GOD, sometimes you can be as dim-witted as that insipid Donovan! Is that what these vacations do to people, John? Decrease their already lacking IQ's? I _highly_ advise against you taking another one once you return home, or you'll be no use to me in future cases!"

"WELL." John snapped back, his line for patience trampled upon quite a few insults back, "How _the bloody hell_ was I supposed to guess you had a sister, hm? I'm still not quite used to the fact that you were even born and not created in some sort of mad mans science experiment for a genius super spy! You've never once mentioned the girl, yet I've known about Mycroft since the start of all this!"

"You only know about Mycroft because he insists upon sticking his protruding nose into every little aspect of my life!" Sherlock fumed, then took a shaking breathe, as though trying to collect himself, "My family is not exactly of an intimate nature. I myself haven't seen the girl for well over three years, when Mycroft was able to blackmail me into attending one of mummy's ridiculous holiday dinners. I can't say I see the point, particularly when the reasoning behind such trivial events are meant to create a '_bond_' among family members, yet the evening is spent trying to top one another in this or that and there is hardly sliver of '_bonding_' made by the end of it all."

The look John gave him was, irritatingly enough, more disappointed than angry at this point. He shook his head, his dismayed expression shouting his disapproval for Sherlock's view upon family bonding, and spoke with a voice that sounded thoroughly exhausted, "If you care so little for this girl, Sherlock, why are you in such a frenzy to go rescue her, when you were just telling me of a client who had this all-so interesting, all-so mysterious crime that they were going to present to you this evening?"

"Because," Sherlock put the laptop back down with little delicacy, his fiery gaze burning into John's as he spoke, slowly and deliberately, and with a certain passion John rarely heard him use, "She is a _Holmes_."

With that, he took a sudden turn of his heel and stalked away, his coat creating the dramatic flutter Sherlock so secretly liked, and left the flat with suit-case in hand. John simply stared at the empty home before he sighed, rubbing his temples. Of course the great Sherlock Holmes couldn't even be bothered to exit out of the conversation. He was much too above meager things like that. Shaking his head, John himself closed the little window and whipped out his mobile, his anger quickly dissipating in favor of concern for this poor child who had the bad luck of being related to the two most ingenious and annoying men of all of London.

_April 28, 2012, 10:37 AM_

_I hope you find her in time. Call me if you need anything, alright?_

The reply came within seconds. It was short, and curt, and so utterly Sherlock that John had to shake his head again.

_April 28, 2012, 10:37 AM_

_**I will.**_

John wasn't sure if the difficult detective meant that he would ask for his help if it was needed, or if he was just confidant he'd be able to save his sister in time. Knowing Sherlock, it was likely the latter. John looked down in quiet consideration at his mobile as thoughts of his own sister entered his head, and he groaned outwardly, absolutely despising the words that came out of his mouth next, but knowing they were the right thing to do regardless.

"Sarah!" He called down the hall and almost hesitated, but Harry's face flashed in his mind again and he continued, forcing himself to do what any good flat mate would do, "We're going back to London!"

* * *

I tried to proof read this as best as I could, but it's late and I'm tired, so mistakes will have to wait until morning!

It's worth noting that Enola Holmes belongs to Nancy Springer, and that I am only borrowing the name and concept. The age, personality traits, and probably physical aspects of her will likely all be different, as I haven't actually read the books that she's based in. Hopefully this won't upset anyone!

Chapter one is out...and the game is afoot!


End file.
